


lavender, sandalwood, mint

by SuchASeeweedBrain



Series: RNM One Shots [9]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes Deserves Nice Things, Aliens are known, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Happy Ending, M/M, michael POV, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchASeeweedBrain/pseuds/SuchASeeweedBrain
Summary: ‘So, what brings you here today?’ Michael asks, trying for professional, even if he never quite got that down.‘She made me come here.’ Alex says and he’s sulking. It’s cute. Fucking hell. Liz sighs.‘Alex is miserable. All the time. I’ve gotten really damn tired of his sulking, he needs some good news. I’m thinking you can give him some.’ She says, taking her first sip of tea.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: RNM One Shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1418848
Comments: 41
Kudos: 266





	lavender, sandalwood, mint

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I don't know what happened. I was supposed to write a malex ficlet, angst with a happy ending and I somehow ended up with a 3400 word soulmate au that really isn't really that angsty at all. I can't make these boys sad, apparently. To be fair, they're sad enough in canon *shrugs*.
> 
> So yeah, this is a little different from what/ how I usually write. At least it felt different. Do I know where I'm going with this? Nope.

Michael is exhausted. He is most days, but today has just been that step over the edge he tries not to take too often. Unfortunately he has one more appointment and it’s one that has been in the back of his mind since it had been set up weeks ago.

Alex Manes. Son of Jesse Manes. The guy who tried to have Congress lock all Antarians up in camps. The son of the 2020’s Hitler was coming to see a Antarian soul reader. Michael was intrigued, which is the only reason why he accepted the appointment in the first place. That and the woman who had made the appointment wasn’t actually Alex Manes (obviously). She had said he was probably going to be “difficult, but not for the reason Michael thought he’d be”. Which had been cryptic enough that Michael had accepted the appointment.

Now he regrets it. He’s already strung out and tired. He feels like he’s crashed his space ship all over again, which _ha,_ he actually did at some point. Not his brightest moment. Point is, he’s not sure if he can deal with a judgemental asshole who doesn’t really want to be there but got dragged here by his girlfriend or whatever. He also knows, in the way that he sometimes just _knows_ things, that this isn’t going to be an easy session.

Michael’s gift isn’t exact science. Not many of them are, but his especially is based on a lot of interpretation. Colours, feelings, shapes, often abstract and unclear, sometimes sounds or smells, but never a clear cut little summary of “this is so and so, this is their person, they will meet them there and then and they’ll be happy for so and so long”. It is a lot of guesswork. Getting to know his client to be able to interpret better. See, Michael didn’t really like the word soulmates. Michael didn’t consider it like that at least, because it wasn’t like their souls were made from the same stuff, or even that they were particularly complimentary, it was more like an ache. An ache everyone had (even if most humans were really good at ignoring it) for the one person that could make that ache go away. Their home.

One person with fire in their soul could need someone with water, while another might need earth. Someone with daisies at their core might need roses while another needed a cactus.

As he said, not an exact science, and it only seemed to work on humans. He’d tried to read both his sister and brother, but there was nothing. Just blackness, like a wall. Just nothing, no smell, no sound no taste. They have decided he is just calibrated for humans or something. Neither of them is particularly sciency.

He makes himself a cup of tea and puts several herbs in it that are supposed to help him focus, bring him strength. It had taken a while to figure out what the right way was for Michael to be able to do this. For him to be okay after spending so much time in other peoples souls. It is a tricky game, one he tries not to think about too much. He tries not to think about losing himself in someone else one day, he tries not to think about the darkness he’s seen, the pain, the despair, the longing. He tries not to let those feelings stick with him. He tries to make them leave with their owners.

He ignores how he couldn’t tell the young woman three days ago that her soulmatch (which he preferred over soul _mate_ ) would die three days after she met him, he just couldn’t get the words out. He ignores how he couldn’t prevent his sister from nearly getting destroyed by her not-as-nice-as-he-seemed-at-first boyfriend, or how he can’t stop Max from nearly working himself to death to prove some kind of point.

He can’t _do anything_ except tell his clients what was already written in the stars. Fate. He is just the messenger. A cosmic messenger and sometimes, sometimes he just wants to tell Fate to go fuck herself. Because the bad ones always stick more than the good ones do.

He checks the clock. Five minutes before Alex Manes is supposed to be here. He should clean up a little. He doesn’t. Instead he sits on his favourite chair, closes his eyes and breathes. Just breathes. Trying to clear his mind. Isobel calls it meditating. Michael calls it recharging. They both mean the same thing, he’s just stubborn and he likes making her roll her eyes. He focusses on the smell of his room: lavender, sandalwood, mint and the barest hint of smoke. He breathes in the warmth, the sense of home, of cosy blankets and hot chocolate.

The knock on the door sounds excited, so Michael is pretty sure it’s not Alex Manes but his friend/girlfriend/whatever. Sure enough he opens the door to a beautiful woman in her late twenties. She has glossy dark hair and soft eyes. Behind her, well, Jesse Manes’ ex-wife has to be gorgeous because there’s no way Alex Manes got all of that from his father.

He’s as tall as Michael, brown hair, brown eyes, skin that looks so soft Michael feels like he could drown in it.

‘Hello, welcome.’ He holds the door open for them and the two of them step inside. He’s glad neither of them offer to shake his hand. He can’t take any more physical contact than necessary right now.

‘Hi, I’m Liz, this is Alex.’ She introduces, looking around at the room. Alex is watching him, carefully taking him in with a blank look on his face. Okay. Not a broadcaster, Michael hopes he’s not going to put up a fight.

‘I’m Michael, nice to meet you.’ He motions at the couch. ‘Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I have tea, water, some juices.’

‘I’ll have some tea.’ Liz says with a smile and she turns to give Alex a _look_.

‘I’d like some water, please.’ His voice is warm and pleasant and Michael ignores the shiver it sends down his spine.

‘Tea and water, coming right up.’ Michael says and he busies himself making Liz’s tea, luckily the water is still hot enough that he doesn’t have to boil it again. He sets their cups down, mismatched and overly colourful. Isobel had smirked like a madwoman when she gifted them these. To fit with his fortune teller aesthetic, she’d said.

Alex looks at his cup with a look that makes Michael bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. Like the cup personally offended him.

‘Thank you.’ Liz says brightly, showing no sign of being put off by the look of Michael’s cups as she picks it up and breathes in the smell.

‘So, what brings you here today?’ Michael asks, trying for professional, even if he never quite got that down.

‘ _She_ made me come here.’ Alex says and he’s sulking. It’s _cute_. Fucking hell. Liz sighs.

‘Alex is miserable. All the time. I’ve gotten really damn tired of his sulking, he needs some good news. I’m thinking you can give him some.’ She says, taking her first sip of tea.

‘I don’t control what I see, you know that right?’ Michael says, suddenly a swoop of nerves in his stomach. Most people come in with expectations, everyone wants their life, their soulmatch to turn out to be all roses and rainbows and butterflies, but rarely do they voice it so clearly.

‘He’s had so much bad shit to deal with, he’s due for something good. I am sure of it.’ She says it so certainly that Michael almost believes her. He makes a vague confirming noise instead.

‘That is not exactly how it works, but I will read you, if you want me to.’ He says, directly to Alex. If someone doesn’t want to be read, it can be a pretty shitty process and it can feel very much like violating someone. Michael isn’t down for that.

Alex actually seems to consider it for a few seconds, his brow furrowed as he watches Michael again with that unreadable look. He lets go of the tension in his shoulders.

‘I’m already here, might as well.’ Apparently that is as close to a verbal go ahead as Michael is going to get. He can feel it though, in the air, like someone loosened a knot he hadn’t realized was even there.

‘Okay. I am going to need to ask you some questions first. It helps if I get to know you a little before I read you, it makes everything easier to interpret. Now, these questions can get a little personal. Would you like it to be just the two of us for this?’ Michael asks and Alex glances at Liz, who downs the rest of her tea and stands up before Alex can even say anything.

‘I’ll be at that coffee shop down the street.’ She squeezes his shoulder and throws Michael a smile before letting herself out.

That leaves them alone, which is somehow both better and worse. He can already feel Alex like this. It doesn’t happen like that with everyone, but it does with Alex Manes. He can feel the edges of his… essence before he’s even touched him. Which is strange, in this case, because Alex doesn’t seem to want to share. It doesn’t seem to come natural to him, but his soul is reaching out to Michael regardless. Interesting.

‘Okay.’ Alex says, but he sounds like he’d rather be getting his teeth pulled, which is alright. He supposes that’s fair.

‘Like I said, these questions might get personal, if you really don’t want to answer, you can tell me, but if you can answer even a little bit, it would be very helpful.’ Alex gives one sharp nod and Michael straightens up a little. ‘Okay. Do you have anyone in your life currently that you think could be your soulmatch?’

‘No.’ Alex says, firm and resolute. Michael blinks for a second.

‘Alright, okay-‘

‘Is that strange?’ Alex asks, looking like he can’t stop the words from stumbling out of his mouth.

‘No, not at all. Most people who come here haven’t met their soulmatch yet, but most people need a second to think about it.’ Michael explains. ‘Have you thought about your soulmatch a lot?’ Alex’s jaw ticks.

‘Kind of.’ Michael tries to smile, but it feels tense even to him. He’s not sure why.

‘That’s very cryptic.’

‘You think you know me, right?’ Alex asks suddenly and Michael almost sits back at the tension in his voice. ‘Everyone always thinks they know me, they hear my name and they know who I am. Cold, uncaring, killer. That’s it. So yes, I’ve though about my soulmatch a lot, and how disappointed they’ll be when they find out it’s me. They’ll take one look at me and run and to be completely honest with you, I fucking deserve it too-‘ Alex snaps his mouth shut like he’s been bitten, or like he’s trying to bite his tongue off.

This happens. It’s, what Michael would call, a side effect of his gift. People want to tell him the truth, deep down. Even when he doesn’t want to, if he’s focussed on someone, his powers will reach out and coax them into telling the truth. It’s the one thing he hasn’t quite gotten under control in all his years of doing this. This is the worst he’s ever felt about it.

Alex’s eyes are wide and he looks like he’s trying to decide between the door or the window.

‘Well, I can tell you right now, your soulmatch wouldn’t look at you that way. We only see the worst in ourselves, our soulmatch sees the best in us. It’s not a magical connection that makes everything okay the second you lay eyes on them, it still takes work on both sides to make it happen, but your soulmatch would never judge you for your family’s sins.’ He takes a breath, making it ring true before he adds: ‘And neither will I.’

‘That sounds great and all, but I’ll believe it when I see it.’ Alex says and alright, Michael can appreciate that.

‘So, I feel like this is an obvious one, but what is your relationship with your family like?’ Alex actually snorts at that. He flops back on the couch a little and rolls his eyes.

‘I only speak to one brother, Flint, mostly to check if he’s dead or not. I haven’t spoken to my father in years and I’m not planning on it either. He’s insane.’ He says it like pure fact and Michael believes him. It’s easy to with the sincerity in his voice. Michael doesn’t even think it’s his gift influencing him. Alex wants him to know this.

‘What about your mother?’ He asks and all that had opened in Alex’s face shutters immediately. It’s enough of an answer. ‘Okay, stepping away from that.’ Michael says and Alex doesn’t quite relax, but he doesn’t get more tense either, so he’ll take it as a win.

‘Do you have a lot more questions?’ Alex asks and he’s back to carefully blank. He’s good at that.

‘One more: What is your favourite food?’ It’s a weird one, but Michael likes asking it. It gets his clients in a more happy/positive headspace. Gets them to smile.

‘Fries from the Crashdown dipped in a vanilla milkshake.’ Alex says with very little hesitation. It makes Michael smile.

‘Gross.’ He says and Alex’s eyes snap to his. His face stays blank for a second more before it cracks. Soft smile around his mouth as he rolls his eyes.

‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’ Michael smiles back at him and holds out his hand.

‘Alright, time to get into it.’ He says. ‘You shouldn’t feel anything, I’m just going to close my eyes and hold your hand for a bit. It can take anywhere between ten seconds and about a minute and a half, depending. Okay?’ He says and Alex doesn’t even really hesitate before sliding his hand in Michaels.

It’s soft and warm and he closes his eyes-

It’s dark. That’s the first thing he registers. That doesn’t happen often, but maybe Alex just likes black. He tries to step forward, dig a little deeper, but everything stays black. A little weird. He tries to focus on something else, maybe sight is not the way to go, also unusual, but not unheard of. So he closes his eyes (in his mind, because his eyes are technically already closed, he needs to stop thinking about this because he’s going to give himself a headache), and listens. He hears what sounds like the rushing of sand, the vaguest notes on a guitar, a warm laugh. He hears a high, strangely mechanical whistle. It sounds familiar, but he can’t place it. He tries to taste the air. Cold. Vanilla. Something salty. Fries. He takes a deep breath. Lavender, sandalwood, mint. Wait. He feels warm, like he’s covered in a blanket, hot chocolate in his hands. He feels like paper under his fingers, herbs in his hands. Isobel’s laugh. Max’s warm smile. He feels like home. Home. The stars.

Suddenly his eyes snap open, in his mind. It’s still black, but not pitch black. Michael was wrong. It wasn’t all black. It was a night’s sky. Moonless. Stars. He can see stars. He knows its coming before he sees the pattern. Home. Antar.

He almost falls off his chair as he snaps his hand back and opens his eyes with a start. Impossible.

Alex looks like he’s on high alert. Tense. Eyes darting for the window again.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says, his voice comes out rough. ‘Did I do something wrong? That was longer than a minute and a half.’ Michael’s eyes snap to the clock. Almost three minutes. The longest he’d ever spend in someone else’s mind. That had to be the reason, right? He couldn’t be. Antarians didn’t have soulmatches. Especially not humans. Impossible.

But it had smelled like his place, his home. He’d heard Izzy, Alex didn’t even know her.

‘I knew this was a bad idea. I am so sorry. I should go.’ Alex is off the couch before Michael can fully process what’s going on. ‘Fuck you look like I’ve slapped you.’ Alex says, his breath catching as he moves off the couch, nearly stumbling into the side table in his hurry. Michael needs to say something. He needs to stop him. He needs to process this.

‘Wait.’ He croaks, just as Alex’s hand lands on the doorknob. He freezes. ‘Please come back.’ He says and he sounds pathetic. Confused and a little scared. But Alex does unfreeze slowly and turn to him.

‘Did I hurt you?’ He asks. Not coming closer, but not leaving either.

‘No. I’m just confused. Give me a second.’ Michael knows he must look like he’s begging. He’s somehow ended up on the floor, on his knees. ‘Come sit, please.’

‘I’d rather stand.’ Alex says, but he does come closer. He also wraps his arms around himself, like protection. ‘If I don’t have a soulmatch, you can tell me. It’s okay.’

‘No.’ Michael says firmly, because he refuses to believe that. He pushes himself to his feet. ‘No. Just- just tell me if this means anything to you: Lavender, sandalwood, mint.’ He looks at Alex and a confused little frown appears between his eyebrows. He thinks it through though, and Michael can see the exact moment that Alex takes a deep breath and it clicks.

‘That’s what this place smells like.’ He says. ‘Lavender, sandalwood, mint.’ He still looks very confused.

‘Did you grow up in the desert?’

‘Yes.’

‘Play guitar?’

‘Yes.’

‘Work with cars or anything like that?’

‘No.’ Alex says, shaking his head. Michael’s spaceship crashed in the desert, the first human thing he’d learned to do was play guitar. ‘I was close to a crash site.’ He offers. That high whistle. A crash. The taste of sand in his mouth, crunching between his teeth. Smoke.

‘Do you have a sister?’

‘No.’

‘Blonde female friends?’

‘No.’ Alex looks borderline scared now. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

‘I- I’ve never dealt with this before. I thought- I thought only humans- well, that only humans had soulmatches.’

‘You are still making zero sense here.’ Michael is really trying to get everything together in his head. He pulls up the side of his shirt, showing Alex his flank and the tattoo on it. Alex’s eyes dart at it and then away like he’s not supposed to look.

‘Does that look familiar?’ Michael presses and Alex looks again. He looks closer and his mouth drops open.

‘What the hell?’ He says as he steps closer. ‘I used to draw that for a while, after the crash, my father hated it.’

‘It’s my home. Antar.’ Alex’s eyes dart back up to his, wide and uncertain but with the tiniest glimmer of hope.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Your soul felt like my home.’ Alex’s breath catches.

‘You- you think _you_ are my soulmatch?’

‘Lavender, sandalwood, mint. The sound of sand, a guitar, a spaceship falling from the sky. My sister’s laugh, my brother’s smile. Blankets and hot chocolate, _the stars_. You- you felt like home.’

Alex looks at him. Blinks. Stares.

‘If this is a joke it’s fucking cruel.’ He says but he doesn’t sound like he actually believes it is. Still.

‘It’s not.’ Michael says firmly. ‘I mean, I’m not one hundred percent sure, but- I- I don’t know how else to explain it.’

‘How- how can we be sure?’ Alex asks, even though he has to know the answer to that. The first kiss between soulmatches/mates, whatever, is supposed to be like rearranging your universe. Recalibrating your sense of reality. Life-changing.

‘Well, I know we just met, but uh-‘ Michael makes a face that actually makes Alex smile and fuck, yeah okay. He’s perfectly willing to look at that for the rest of his life. ‘I think we should kiss, to test my theory.’ Alex nods.

‘Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.’ Alex doesn’t move though and so Michael goes to him.

He reaches out, touches Alex’s cheek. It’s soft and round and his cheekbones are deadly. His mouth is… well, mouth-watering and he needs to stop trying to think here. He kisses him. Soft, barely more than a brush of lips but it’s unlike anything Michael has felt before. By the way Alex breathes in sharply, he agrees. Alex presses closer and kisses him again. It’s like freefalling, but like he knows there’s a comfortable warm bed at the bottom. Falling, but he knows with an absolute certainty that he will be fine. That he will be safe. He’s safe. Alex pulls back a little and his eyes blink open. They’re brimming with tears, but he’s smiling. Warm and kind and home. Alex is his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to send me a prompt, you can do it in the comments or over on my tumblr: daffietjuh
> 
> Comments make me squeal with delight!


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